


the weight of melted snow

by poalof



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, inspired by adora's letter to catra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 15:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalof/pseuds/poalof
Summary: “Remember when you let me fall?” Adora says. “When you cut me down?”“Yes,” Catra tells her. Catra looks at Adora but Adora only looks out towards where the sea meets the sky. Her gut feels tight and heavy, empty and too sharp.“I loved you, even then. But I think you knew that. Or, at the very least, you recognized that I had some sort of weakness when it came to you.”





	the weight of melted snow

Nights in Half-Moon are cool and dark. The constant humidity subsides, if only briefly, enough so that Catra can find some comfort. Moonset marks the end of the meeting of Half-Moon’s Council. She watches through the window across from her seat at the Council table as the moonlight streaming in through the tops of the caverns fades away and the warm light radiating from homes starts to fill the space instead. 

She turns her attention back to the Council member speaking – an older Magicat, one that has a penchant for tangents in his speeches. She rests her arms across her chest and sighs. 

A huff of air – a laugh meant to go undetected- draws Catra’s attention to the other side of the room. Mina isn’t looking at her, instead pointedly staring at whoever is speaking now, but the small upturn of her lips is enough for Catra to know she’s teasing her.

Finally the moons’ light fades completely and the Council Elders end the meeting. Catra stands up slow, careful not to draw any unwarranted attention, careful not to let anyone know just how desperate she is to get out of the Meeting House, to get home, to – 

“You’re very subtle when expressing your discontent.”

Catra laughs and turns. Mina stands behind her, arms crossed as she leans against the table.

“It’s not my fault those idiots let him talk about how environmentalism is killing the art of masonry or whatever for twenty fucking minutes. I mean, seriously, what the fuck does that even mean?”

“Maybe if you listened to him you’d know. And he only talked for 18 minutes today. Don’t give him more credit than he deserves,” Mina says. She pushes off the table and walks past Catra, stopping in the doorway only to lean against it and say, “Are you going home or what?”

Catra watches as her body disappears into the darkness outside the Meeting House door. She waits a moment, then leaves.

Most homes in Half-Moon don’t have electricity. Catra’s doesn’t. She finds it to rarely be an inconvenience.

She starts a fire in the small hearth in the living area. She gets to preparing the hare she bought in the market that morning while she waits for the fire to die down a bit so she can cook on it. 

She finds cooking calms her. The combination of structure and order with enough creative independence to make it personal reminds her of Adora.

The fire calms and she cooks the hare and eats it, along with a mug of the tea Mina’s mom gave to her to drink before bed.

_To calm your dreams,_ she had said.

Catra settles into the armchair next to the fire, still warm and bright but no longer crackling with danger. She pulls out a piece of the thick parchment commonly used in Half-Moon from her desk drawer. She pulls her inkwell closer – one thick and heavy, made of dark glass; a gift from when she was elected to the Council – and dips the nib of her pen in.

_Adora,_

_The days here are too much. Long and hot and sticky. It’s unbearable at times. How I haven’t yet acclimated to Half-Moon summers in my 7 years here I do not know – how everyone else can go about their day as if everything is normal, comfortable, I do not know. The nights provide some relief. Although the humidity is almost the same, the cool air makes a noticeable difference._

_I hate to admit it, but Bright Moon was always so lovely this time of year. Warm but not unbearable._

_Council meetings are going about as well as ever. My suggestions to create a more direct voting system for the next election have moved forward. We’re in the planning process now. Exciting for me, of course, but I’m sure you don’t want me to go on about work for the rest of this letter, so I’ll cut myself off there._

_Mina gave me some tea for my dreams – I think I mentioned that her mom runs the local apothecary? – to help keep them from getting too ‘exciting’. I’ve only been drinking it for about a week and already I’ve been able to sleep through the whole night three times._

_I tried that recipe you sent, the one for the bread? It was awful, Adora. Completely terrible. Either I’m a worse baker than I thought or you don’t know what bread is supposed to be like._

_‘I miss you’,_ she almost writes, but stops herself. Even after all this time, it feels too open, too vulnerable. With Adora, that’s dangerous – the one she wants most to say such things to, the one she fears saying such things to the most. She finishes:

_How are things in Bright Moon? How is Razz? How are you?_

_Catra_

She seals the letter and sets it on the table by the door so she’ll remember to take it to the post office in the morning. She blows out the candles around the house and goes to her bedroom. She strips from her aba and falls into bed, too tired to get under the blankets, too aware that she’ll just end up kicking them off anyway.

She sleeps.

_She’s walking through the Whispering Woods. It’s dark and she’s big – bigger than usual, on all fours, hearing, sight, smell all stronger. She can hear everything. Every insect and bird and mammal and plant, every living thing in the woods and it’s too much, too fuzzy. It’s dark but the sounds are too bright and just when she thinks she’ll be overwhelmed, the scene shifts._

_She’s in a meadow and she’s back to normal – normal senses and stance and size. She looks down and sees brown pants, light and airy in their fit, and a brown leather belt with a brass buckle around her waist. Her shirt is white and tucked in and when the breeze blows she feels it ripple against her chest. She looks up again and she stands on the edge of a cliff, waves from the sea below crashing into the sides. She turns to look behind her – the meadow stretches out behind her – and catches a figure in her peripheral when she turns back towards the sea._

_Adora stands next to her. Her hair is pulled up into a loose bun and the sun illuminates the hairs that swirl around her head. Her dress is blue and she’s barefoot. They both are, Catra realizes._

_“Remember when you let me fall?” Dream Adora says. “When you cut me down?”_

_“Yes,” Catra tells her. Catra looks at Adora but Adora only looks out towards where the sea meets the sky. Her gut feels tight and heavy, empty and too sharp._

_“I loved you, even then. But I think you knew that. Or, at the very least, you recognized that I had some sort of weakness when it came to you.”_

_Catra looks out to where Adora is looking and says “I knew I wanted you to love me, I think.”_

_When she looks back at Adora she’s gone, replaced by the Whispering Woods and the too bright sounds and this time it’s too much._

Catra sits up, startled from her sleep. She makes herself another cup of tea.

Two weeks later, Catra gets a response from Adora. The wax seal on the front is familiar – Bright Moon’s crest with She-Ra’s sword going down the center. Adora’s personal seal. Catra brushes a thumb across the seal, across each corner, each edge, across where her address has been written in Adora’s neat, uniform block letters. She extends a claw and breaks the seal.

_Dear Catra,_

_Bright Moon is comfortable as ever. I’m sorry to hear about Half-Moon’s summer heat. I remember how awful it was when I visited years ago. Maybe you and I should visit the Kingdom of Snows, if only for a short while. I’m sure we can convince Princess Frosta to pull a few strings for us – a cabin, secluded and quiet, so cold outside the heat will be welcomed._

_Of course, I’m always happy to hear about your work. I’m incredibly proud, after all. Keep me updated!_

_Things here are calm, although I’m sure they won’t stay that way for long. Razz and I are both well, but we miss you. It’s incredible how much I miss you._

The lines that follow are blacked out with ink. Catra brings the paper closer to her face to try and decipher the words underneath but Adora, vigilant as ever, has succeeded in keeping whatever she wrote from Catra. She smiles at this – whatever Adora wrote must have been so sappy that even she decided it was too much.

_Keep me updated on your dreams! I’m pleased to hear they’re not having such an effect on your sleep – any improvement is good, right?_

_Write back soon._

_Love, Adora_

She sits down at her desk and writes back.

_Adora,_

_The Kingdom of Snows sounds lovely this time of year. I should be free in a few weeks. Let me know what you think about going there around the beginning of next month._

_Not much to update you on when it comes to work. We’ve finalized the ballots to make them as clear as possible and eliminate any bias they may present (we hope)._

_Dreams are still an improvement. Nothing strange since I last wrote you._

Catra hesitates. After all, it’s not completely honest. The cliff scene stays vibrant in her mind, Adora’s words resonating, repeating for the past two weeks.

_“I loved you, even then.”_

She decides it’s fine and continues.

Mina and her mother stop by for lunch. Catra prepares fish for them – some trout caught by her neighbors’ son. It cooks fast and she just has time to make a salad before she has to take it off the hearth.

Moonlight streams in through the window, the only source of light besides the dim fire, and everything feels soft and calm and right. Catra puts the plates on the table, one often in disuse due to lack of visitors, and refills drinks before taking her seat.

“So, Catra, how has that tea been working? I’m assuming well since I haven’t heard any complaints,” Frida says.

Catra thinks back to the last time she had a dream – overwhelmed in the woods, and then with Adora, and then the woods again – and counts how many days have since passed.

“It’s been about two weeks since my last dream, so your assumption would be correct,” Catra tells her and Frida smiles back at her.

“That’s good to hear. Mina was telling me about just how awful they were. I don’t remember the last time I heard of a Magicat with dreams like yours, but I was certainly concerned. You’re getting a good night’s rest now, though?”

“I’m sure Catra doesn’t want to spend the whole dinner talking about dreams, Mother,” Mina cuts in.

Frida fixes her with a stare and says, “Then what do you suggest we talk about?”

Catra stares down at her plate, careful to keep her face neutral, careful not to show support one way or another. She glances up, only for a second, and meets Mina’s eye, sees her smirk, and can only hope she won’t bring up what – _who_ – Catra thinks she will.

“How’s Adora?”

Catra leans back in her chair, face towards the ceiling and arms crossed. 

“Do we really need to talk about this, Mina?” she sighs.

“I am also curious, Catra. Have you heard from her lately?” Frida asks.

Catra looks at Mina, takes in her smug face, smug posture, smug _everything,_ and gives her a look that she hopes conveys _I hate you for this_.

“She’s well. I recently received a letter from her and wrote back. Hopefully I’ll hear a response soon.”

“That’s good.”

“Any indication of, you know, feelings?” Mina says.

“She signs all of her letters with ‘love’, Mina, how am I supposed to know?” Catra snaps.

“I don’t know, Catra, but it seems to me like that might indicate she loves you.”

“She’s just like that. Always bubbly and affectionate with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Catra glares at her, brow furrowed. Mina’s smirk starts to pull down at the corners and just as she opens her mouth, she closes it again. Rethinking.

Frida hums. “Well, I brought some more tea for you. Mina, I think it’s best we head off now. Thank you for lunch, Catra.”

Catra stands to see them out the door. She hugs Frida, then Mina, and smiles at them both. 

When they leave, she collapses into her armchair and pinches the bridge of her nose. She gets out her parchment and writes.

A week passes and then another. Finally, Catra receives a response from Adora.

_Dear Catra,_

_Frosta has agreed to let us use her cabin for the first week of the upcoming month. I’ll meet you there._

_In other exciting news, I’ll be seeing you sooner than expected. Bright Moon is sending me to Half-Moon on behalf of Glimmer. I’m to ‘review the democratic system currently in place’. Not quite sure what that means considering I know how excellent Half-Moon’s electoral process is (thanks to a certain somebody), but it does mean I’ll get to see you!_

_By the time you receive this letter I’ll have departed and will most likely be only a day or two away._

_I’d appreciate it if you’d find a place for me to stay. This whole thing was put together so unexpectedly and while the Half-Moon Council knows I’m coming, I fear they haven’t had adequate time to prepare and would hate to be too much of a burden on them._

_That’s good news about your dreams! I suppose we can talk about them in more detail soon._

_I’ll see you soon, Catra._

_Love, Adora_

Adora arrives midday the next day. Catra helps her carry her bag despite the fact that Adora could turn into She-Ra and carry her own luggage with ease. She leads her past the farmers’ market she frequents for produce, the school the children in her neighborhood attend, and finally to the tree that holds her own home. 

Adora cranes her neck to look upward. “Wasn’t there a ladder last time I came?”

Catra vaguely remembers there being one. She scans the area but there’s no ladder to be found.

“Give me a minute,” she says before climbing up the tree with Adora’s bag. When she comes down, Adora is leaning against the tree with her arms crossed and her eyes closed. Catra coughs and her eyes open.

“You always did make that look easy.”

Catra shrugs. “Yeah, well, I was kind of born to do it.”

Adora laughs.

Catra feels a pull on her gut, sharp, panging. “Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Starving,” Adora grins.

“Get on. I’ll make you something when we get up there.”

Adora jumps onto Catra’s back so her legs wrap around Catra’s waist and her arms hold around her chest under her arms. Catra climbs up the tree slower than she would if she were on her own, careful to make sure she doesn’t jostle Adora too much. As they go higher she feels Adora’s grip tighten, each breath hitting the back of Catra’s neck harder.

“Adora?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay. I’m not going to let you fall. I won’t let you down, alright?”

Adora’s quiet for a moment more but her breathing evens out and her grip relaxes. Catra turns her head to the side so she can see Adora out of her peripheral.

“You ready to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

They don’t have long together before they must report to the Meeting House for the Council meeting. 

The meeting is long. Adora sits next to Catra and Mina keeps looking over them and making faces at Catra, _she’s sitting next to you, she likes you._

And maybe it’s been too long since Catra last saw Adora because every time they make eye contact, every time they glance in each other’s direction when one of the other Council members says something dumb, Catra feels that familiar pang in her chest, the pull in her gut. And maybe it’s been too long because Catra doesn’t remember Adora ever touching her this much, or talking to her this much, especially not during official meetings. And maybe it’s been too long because Catra can’t help but let her tail wander closer and closer to Adora’s ankle, covered by her boot, until it touches and wraps around and for a moment she thinks maybe the touch went undetected but she feels Adora’s hand on her knee, light but just enough pressure, and knows.

When they get back to Catra’s home it’s late. The meeting ran over by quite some time and even though she’s exhausted, Catra wants to stay up as long as she can with Adora. She makes them both a cup of tea. They sit by the hearth, Catra curled up in her armchair that she’s pulled over from her desk, and Adora lounging on the couch.

Adora tells her about her mission to the Crimson Waste a few months back and even now Catra feels the simmering of jealousy when she mentions  
Huntara’s name. Adora doesn’t seem to notice and if she does, she gives no indication of it.

It isn’t until Catra feels herself floating, warmth to one side, that she realizes she fell asleep. She turns towards the warmth and nuzzles into it, smiling when she hears a chuckle from above.

“I’m taking you to bed. Is it okay if we share?”

Catra can only muster the energy to hum back affirmatively. She feels her body lower until it touches something firm. Her mattress, she realizes, and then a dip on the other side and the rustling of sheets and Adora’s voice saying “Goodnight, Catra” and everything feels good and right.

_She stands on a stage. Lights glare down, too hot and too bright. Rows and rows of seats fill the room in front of her. A theater. Adora sits in a chair in the middle of the aisle that separates the seats._

_“Adora,” she says._

_Adora looks at her from her seat. Her hair is down this time, her dress white. Again, she’s barefoot._

_“Eat.”_

_Catra shrinks back. Something about the word feels wrong, sinister._

_“Eat what, Adora? There’s nothing here.”_

_Adora nods, gesturing behind Catra, and Catra turns. A long table, not dissimilar from those in the dining hall of the Fright Zone, sits behind her, piled high with food._

_“Eat,” Adora repeats._

_Catra steps forward but the table seems to move back. She takes another step. The table moves back. She walks, faster and faster, and with each step the table moves back and the stage keeps extending, allowing for the table to move back. She runs, sprints, and the whole time, Adora’s voice:_

_Eat. Eat. Eat._

_The lights are too bright and Adora’s voice is too loud and her stomach feels too empty, too hungry, and –_

“Catra!”

Catra sits up. She’s shivering, she realizes, under a large quilt and in Half-Moon’s summer heat. She feels Adora move closer, an arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulling her in until she collapses into Adora. She feels fingers comb through her hair, stroke behind her ears, and somewhere above her Adora is talking.

“Catra?”

She hums.

“I thought you said the dreams weren’t so bad anymore.”

Catra waits a moment. She turns her head in so she’s facing Adora and breathes in, deep, and then sighs.

“They weren’t. I forgot to drink the tea.”

“Oh,” Adora says, and she sounds so small, so worried.

Catra brings her arms up so she’s holding Adora back and then leans against her until they fall onto the mattress together. They lie there, holding each other, no noise other than the insects outside and the heat. _Oh, how splendid to hold one so dear._

“Catra? You kept saying eat.”

“What?” Catra mumbles into Adora’s shoulder.

“You kept saying the word ‘eat’.”

“There was food in my dream.”

Adora laughs, small but genuine. “Are you hungry?”

Catra thinks for a moment. “Not right now.”

Light streams in through Catra’s bedroom window. She’s comfortably warm, though she knows she won’t stay that way for much longer, and a reassuring weight presses against her back and side. She turns to face Adora, trying her best not to wake her. Adora’s hair fans out behind her on her pillow and her face is softer, more relaxed, than Catra has seen in a long time. She can hear activity outside but it’s quiet enough that it causes no disturbance. She moves closer to Adora, tucking her head under her chin and wrapping her arms around her waist, and closes her eyes.

When she wakes up again, Adora isn’t in bed anymore. She turns her face into Adora’s pillow and breathes in. She lies there for a moment more until rustling in the room draws her attention. She sits up and sees Adora walking into the room, two plates of food balanced on one arm and two mugs of tea held in her other hand. She’s wearing her own shirt and a pair of Catra’s sirwals and she smiles at Catra when she sees her sitting up in bed.

“I figured the least I could do to return the courtesy of letting me stay overnight would be to make you breakfast.”

Catra laughs, as if wanting Adora to stay with her instead of at the embassy building where most diplomats stay comes from a place of selflessness and duty. She moves over to make room for Adora and accepts the plate and mug when they’re offered to her.

“You managed to make pancakes without burning them,” Catra says.

Adora laughs and punches her in the arm.

A comfortable silence fills the room while they finish eating. Adora takes Catra’s plate once she’s finished and sets it on the ground next to the bed with her own. When she sits back up Catra moves closer so their arms and thighs touch as they sit. Adora shifts and wraps her arm around Catra’s shoulder and Catra leans in, a mimicry of their position from earlier in the night. Catra is close enough to Adora that she swears she can hear her swallow. She turns her face in to Adora’s neck and breathes in, deep, the smell so familiar, a smell she’s always known.

“I have to leave today. To go back to Bright Moon.”

“You could stay longer,” Catra says, trying her best to keep the desperation out of her voice.

Adora pulls her in closer. “I can’t, Catra. You know that. But only a little longer and we’ll have a whole week to ourselves.”

Catra smiles at the thought. 

The night before Catra is set to leave for the Kingdom if Snows, she dreams.

_She’s in the Crimson Waste. She’s wearing a navy blue shirt that billows in the hot, dry breeze and black pants that don’t quite reach her ankles. A dark gray coat lies crumpled in the sand next to her. When she looks up all three moons are in the middle of the sky and white clouds cover most of it, patches of blue sneaking through occasionally._

_She stands up from where she’s been lying on the ground and looks around to try and get her bearings, but there’s nothing here that she recognizes. In the distance she sees what looks like a small body of water and some buildings – somewhere she can hopefully get something to fix the aching in her stomach._

_She walks forward but stumbles and falls back into the sand. She stands and tries to walk again. Again, she stumbles and falls._

_Catra groans and crawls forward, this time with more success than she’d had walking upright._

_By the time she reaches the town the moons are already halfway under the horizon. She looks around for any signs of life, but the place is seemingly abandoned. She stands up, steps forward, and this time she doesn’t stumble. Another step forward and then another, until she’s walking normally and headed towards the water. She knows she should do something to clean it but she’s so tired and her head hurts so much that at this point she doesn’t care. It’s when she’s sated her thirst that she sees it – a figure in the central window of one of the buildings._

_“Hey!” Catra says as she walks towards the building._

_The figure stands still but is clearly human-shaped. Catra walks closer and closer until it takes a familiar form._

_“Catra,” Adora says._

_Catra looks at Adora and thinks, just for a moment, that she’ll offer her something to help with the pain in her stomach, but then Adora points behind Catra and Catra turns and she’s back on the dune where she started, the town in the distance. She stumbles forward._

In the morning Mina and Frida come to see her off. Frida brings her another box of tea, enough to last the week and then some. 

“Don’t be stupid, Catra,” Mina says as Catra finishes packing. “This girl that you’ve known your whole life and regularly tells you she loves you set up a holiday for just the two of you where you’re going to a private cabin. You might as well propose while you’re there.”

Catra feels her cheeks flush and chucks the shirt she’s holding at Mina, who catches it and raises an eyebrow.

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re an asshole. That’s what you are, Mina.”

“Girls, let’s play nice,” Frida says from across the room. “But Mina may have a point, Catra. You can’t spend your whole life pining after some girl who so obviously returns those feelings.”

“You’re lucky I respect you, Frida, or you’d be getting something thrown at your head, too.”

Frida shrugs.

“That implies that you don’t respect me,” Mina says.

“Exactly,” Catra smirks.

Mina scoffs and throws the shirt back at Catra. “Fuck you.”

Catra raises her arm to throw another item of clothing at Mina when Frida interrupts. 

“You best finish packing if you ever want to see your girl, Catra.”

Catra grumbles but finishes packing as quick as she can.

The cold of the Kingdom of Snows is a welcome feeling after months of summer in Half-Moon. A warm glow emanates from the cabin as Catra approaches. Fresh snow crunches under her feet with each step but none falls from sky now and the strong gusts have died down to a light but constant breeze.

Catra walks up the steps of the deck that wraps around the entire cabin and reaches for the doorknob, but before she can open it the door swings open to reveal Adora.

“Catra! You’re here!” she says and opens up the door further to allow Catra inside. Catra walks in and a soft warmth flows over her. Adora closes the door and Catra takes a moment to observe her – she wears a thick red sweater, knitted fisherman-style, and dark pants. She’s barefoot.

She just has time to toe-off her boots – custom-made so she can protect herself from the cold – and remove her coat before Adora envelops her in a tight hug. 

“I missed you,” Adora says and Catra can feel her mouth move against her shoulder as she says it. She brings up her own arms to hold Adora and turns her head so she can breathe in Adora, deep.

“I missed you, too,” Catra mumbles.

It’s another moment before they pull away. Adora keeps her hand on Catra’s shoulder, holds her arm’s length away. Catra tracks her eyes as they move down, for only a second, away from Catra’s eyes and down, focusing somewhere on her chin or neck before moving back up to her eyes.

“Come into the kitchen. I’m making hot chocolate,” Adora says, brief, before she’s pulling Catra along behind her.

Catra sits on the counter next to the stovetop where Adora is heating milk. She watches Adora work, the way her hands grip the spoon, delicate but firm, and the way her forearm flexes as she stirs the milk, the way her brow furrows in concentration and her tongue sticks out just the slightest bit and –

“Have you ever had it before?”

“Hmmm?”

Adora looks up at her. “Have you ever had hot chocolate before?”

“Yeah,” Catra says. “Frida’s made it for me before. In the winter, sometimes.”

“Then this’ll be your first time having it in the summer.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Adora smiles up at her and her eyes crinkle just a bit and Catra feels her hand clench as she ducks her head and stares at the tiles on the floor instead.

When Adora has finished making the hot chocolate, they take the mugs into the living room and sit by the fire. It crackles in the quiet room and the smell of wood burning is pleasant. They settle into the couch together, Catra moving as far to her side as possible.

“So,” Adora starts, “tell me about your dreams.”

Catra looks down at her mug. “You’re always in them. And every time, I’m hungry.”

“Like, for food?” Adora asks, eyebrow raised.

“That’s what it feels like. And you’re always wearing a dress, but never the same one, and you’re never wearing shoes. And you never act like you. You always seem really distant, like it’s not really you but someone that just looks like you.”

“And you don’t know what any of it means?”

Catra presses her lips together. “I don’t know that it has any meaning. I think maybe they’re just really weird.”

Adora looks down at her own mug, silent for a moment, then back up towards Catra. “I think if there’s that many similarities among different dreams, there might be some meaning. I could see if Castaspella might be able to help you.

“I don’t know, Adora.”

Silence grows between them.

Catra stands. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to try to get some rest, okay?”

Adora keeps her eyes on her mug.

She doesn’t dream.

The week passes. On the last day, Adora suggests they go for a walk down to the lake, frozen over and covered in a layer of snow. The limbs of the trees surrounding the lake bow down to the weight of the ice that coats them. The air is still. Everything is clean and Catra thinks she should be more relaxed but the sound of waiting lays thick in the air.

“Would you ever move out here? Or somewhere like this?” Adora asks as they make their way around the edge of the lake.

“What do you mean?”

Adora stops walking. “Somewhere where no one in the world knows what you’re doing and where you are and who you are but yourself. No expectations. Just living as you are, as you want.”

Catra stops walking, too, and turns around. “Yes. But you wouldn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I asked you to and your sense of duty was greater than whatever would have convinced you to leave the world behind with me.”

Adora takes a step forward. Catra feels her claws dig into her palm but keeps her face neutral, her eyes fixed on Adora’s.

“And if you asked me now?” Another step forward. “What do you think I would say?” Another step forward.

“I wouldn’t ask you now,” Catra says and Adora takes another step, and another, and she’s almost to Catra when she stops.

“Why not? Do you think Etheria would crumble without us? Chewed up, descend into darkness?” She moves forward again until she’s close enough that Catra can reach out and touch her. She doesn’t.

“No,” Catra says, slow. “But I don’t want that anymore.”

“No?” Adora says and Catra watches her eyes dip down to that same spot, somewhere on her chin, and her hands move forward, upward, until they’re resting on Catra’s shoulders, and she pulls until their chests touch. Adora leans down, rests her forehead on Catra’s. Adora’s looking down so it looks as if her eyes are almost closed and Catra feels a pull in her gut. She feels _hungry_. She _is_ hungry. 

She leans forward and kisses Adora. For a moment, it’s too much. She’s overwhelmed again, everything too loud and too bright and too much as love and fear contradict each other. And then:

Adora’s hands: one moves down to her waist to pull her in closer, the other moves up to the nape of her neck.

Adora’s mouth: she kisses back as best she can, the grin on her face getting in the way.

Adora’s laugh: she pulls back and the sound is bright and cheery and full of nothing but joy.

“It took you long enough,” Adora says. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright and Catra thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Yeah, okay,” she grumbles as she leans in to kiss her again.

The pull in her stomach relaxes. 

_Adora,_

_I miss you so much I ache. I cannot wait for you to return home. To see the gleam in your eyes, your smile. To hold you and be held. To tease you in the kitchen when we cook. To dance together in the early hours of the morning when no one is around to see us or know us._

_It amazes me. It amazes me how we are both still capable of love, of so much genuine and wondrous love, after our lifetimes. I am grateful, forever._

_I’ll see you soon._

_Love, Catra_

**Author's Note:**

> title from the weight of melted snow by french for rabbits
> 
> poalof.tumblr.com
> 
> also!! i made a twitter! same username as here and tumblr so feel free to talk to me abt she-ra (pls come talk to me abt she-ra)


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